Broken
by labyrinthofsuffering11
Summary: Two broken people manage to stumble upon each other. Both need each other, whether the realize it or not. She will bring his Bad Wolf back, and he will help her realize The Chosen One has been standing there all along.
1. Chapter 1

Picture a broken man stepping out of his blue box. Picture a dark alley, and an air of not caring where he had landed. In fact, he welcomed a fight, just to take his mind off the numbing pain of losing his Rose. Picture a rowdy bar run by a pretty redhead named Hannah Abbot, laughing and flashing a ring on her finger. Picture the man stumbling in and ordering the heaviest alcohol content drink they have.

Picture a broken woman, who still felt like a little girl. Picture her apparating on the same street as the blue box. One hand on the wand in her coat pocket, the other tugging at the sleeves. Picture her walking into the same bar, except worrying looks are cast her way from the bar's owner. Picture that she orders the same as the strange man.

But there's something different about tonight. Instead of drinking until she forgets, she senses the stranger. She sees the same broken look in his eyes, wonders who he's lost. And suddenly, he pulls her in. She carries her drink to his table. Waits for him to notice her. He doesn't.

"Hey," she says softly. The woman winces at the rough quality of her voice from non-use.

The man moves his head to look at her. It seems like such a chore. Oh, how she understands that feeling. She gets that way anytime someone mentions the war, her parents, Fred, Harry.

"Look, if you're here for some type of one-night stand, or whatever it is you humans call it, I'll spare your feelings now._ Not happening_."

The woman's eyes widened. "No. I just...wait. Humans?" She was confused now more than ever before. She wasn't even quite sure why she was here, really.

The man looked at her, really looked at her. His gaze turned softer. "You just didn't want to be alone anymore," he murmured.

She realized he was right. "I suppose, but...it's better if I am."

"It's better if I'm not." The man shrugged.

"I'm Hermione," she introduced, holding a hand out to shake his.

"I'm the Doctor," he replied, looking down.

She was going to ask "Doctor who?" but then she followed his line of vision to her coat. It had ridden up an inch, exposing an M. She quickly tugged it down, yanking her arm across the table.

His eyes snapped up to hers once more. "Did you do that to yourself?" He frowned.

Hermione sighed. "No."

"Then who?" the Doctor asked angrily, gripping his glass so tightly, Hermione was afraid it might shatter in a million pieces.

"A vile woman," she said calmly. "She's dead now."

"What's it say?" he asked.

Hermione fidgeted with the end of her sleeve. "A bad word here."

"Can I see?" he asked gently.

She chewed on her bottom lip. "Why would you want to?"

"I want to understand," the Doctor said honestly.

"Who was she?" Hermione asked. "The person you lost."

The Doctor looked at her thoughtfully. "Can you tell me where I am first?"

"How much did you have to drink?" she asked, amusement dancing in her eyes.

"Not that much," he scoffed.

She remembered what he said earlier. "Are you alien?" she asked him point blank.

"Yes."

She laughed bitterly. Of course the only person that would understand her nowadays would be an alien. She was really going around the bend. Then she realized she hadn't given him an answer. "You're in the Wizarding World, London. 2002."

"Wizarding World?" he asked curiously. "I'm surrounded by wizards and witches?"

Hermione slipped her wand out of her pocket.

"Brilliant!" he exclaimed.

"Nice try on trying to evade my question, Doctor," Hermione said. "What was her name?"

"Rose," he said somberly, looking down at the table.

"And you loved her?" Hermione asked.

"Ah. Well. Me and her, we were...together. I suppose." He looked at some far off point in the distance, before he snapped out of it. "Now, about this scar. Since I answered you, it's only fair if you let me see it."

She sighed, before placing her arm on the table, scar facing down. The Doctor took her arm in his hand gently, tugged her coat arm up, and flipped it over. A large, pink MUDBLOOD was etched into her skin.

"Why are you ashamed of this?" he asked. "What does it mean?"

She tried to take her arm back, but he held fast. "It means dirty blood."

"You should wear this with pride," he told her. "It means you fought, and you won."

Hermione looked down, cheeks flushing red. "No, it means I failed to save others."

He frowned at her. "If the scar bothers you that much, though, I can take you to my ship. I have a cream that will fix that right up."

"I've tried everything," she told him. "I've been to St. Mungo's thirty times, and tried every spell there is to think of, nothing will get rid of it. It's been cursed by magic."

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "I'm pretty sure advanced medical science can take care of it. Look at this place, it's 2002, and you're still using gas lamps as lights."

She sighed. "What happens if it doesn't work?"

"Then I owe you, Hermione, a trip in my TARDIS. Free of charge. All of time and space."

"Oh, so, you weren't kidding? You really are an alien? Not just a drunk nutter?" she asked.

"Most definitely an alien. Spaceship, time travel, yeah." He jumped up and beamed. "Would you like to see it?"

Hermione nodded and grabbed his hand for him to pull her up. He took her by the arm and they walked out of the bar.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: I'm shocked by all the follows and favorites! Thanks guys! I hope you keep continuing to enjoy this story :)

Hermione laughed when they reached what the Doctor claimed was his ship.

"It's a 1960's Police Box?" she asked. "How are we both supposed to fit in there?"

"Just you wait," he promised her, grabbing the key out of his pocket and unlocking the door. It opened with a creak and a groan, and Hermione wondered just what this "alien" was trying to pull.

But he tugged on her hand lightly, and when she walked in, she was shocked to discover the box was much bigger on the inside than on the outside.

"This is a marvelous undetectable extension charm," she breathed. "You must tell me how you did it."

"An undetectable what?" the Doctor asked, a confused expression on his face.

"Extension charm!" Hermione exclaimed. "How else would you get the ship so big on the inside?"

"Well, it's sort of complicated. Well, it's trans-dimensional," he casually explained while walking further into the ship.

"It's what?" she called back in disbelief, running to keep up with his long, lanky legs.

"Trans-dimensional?" he asked, "Multiple dimensions contain-"

"I know what trans-dimensional means," she interrupted, waving him off. "I meant, how?"

"Oh," the Doctor deflated a bit, and she recognized that sign. It was the disappointment of not being able to explain how much you knew. "Well, it's just the rooms of the TARDIS are all in separate dimensions. It's how all TARDIS' are. Well, were." His face grew dark again.

"Are you looking like that because of the war?" she asked gently, remembering the Doctor told her he had seen war, too.

He shook his head and pulled his face into a smile. "It doesn't matter. Now, on to the med bay to get you some of that cream I promised!"

Hermione's eyes were on him as they walked, trying to figure the Doctor out. They were alike in so many ways, and she wanted him to get better. To not live the rest of his life like her.

"Here we are," he announced, pulling a door open.

She was expecting her nose to be assaulted with the smell of hospitals, all antiseptic and metal, but instead, the room smelled pleasantly like roses.

"Hop up on that cot over there," the Doctor said, pointing at a small cot next to him.

Hermione did as he said and pulled herself up onto the cot, dangling her feet over the side.

The Doctor rummaged around in some drawers for a minute, before he looked at her triumphantly, brandishing a small tube of something. The cream, she was presuming.

He walked over to her, squeezing a generous amount of the cream onto her arm, and rubbing it gently into the skin. Her muscles locked at his sudden touch, a reaction to not having felt someone touch her arm in so long.

"I'm not going to hurt you," her murmured, pausing in his administration and looking her sincerely in the eyes. "I promise."

She gulped and nodded, trying to focus on her heartbeat, and not on the Doctor's touch. If she dwelled on that for too long, she might have an anxiety attack.

He finally finished. "All done!" he exclaimed proudly. "Now we just have to wait five minutes, and it will have vanished."

"_If_ it vanishes," Hermione corrected.

"It _will_," he insisted.

"Well, let's see," she smirked, pulling her wand from her coat pocket and waving in the air in front of them. A glowing countdown was produced, ticking loudly.

"You are a witch," the Doctor breathed.

"Did you think I was making it up?" she asked him, amused.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I've seen things many people have not, galaxies and planets dead and gone, but I've never believed much in magic."

"A science-y guy, eh?" she asked.

He shrugged.

"So, how long was Rose with you?" Hermione asked, making him gasp.

"You sure are nosy, aren't you?" he asked.

"I'm just curious," she insisted.

The Doctor sighed. "4 years."

She nodded. "Were you and her…" she trailed off, not certain on how to phrase it.

"Together?" he asked, like he had gotten that question many times before.

Hermione turned pink. "Yes."

He ran a hand through his hair. "I really don't know," he admitted. "I'd like to think yes, I mean she said she loved me, and I...well. But then there were all these other people in between us, and sometimes I thought we were just best mates, but then she seemed like-"

"Woah, slow down," Hermione laughed. "Take a breath."

"My answer is maybe," he said finally, after thinking about it.

She nodded, accepting. "I know that feeling."

"Oh?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow towards her. "Who's the fellow who has caught Hermione's fancy?"

She was about to answer when the countdown beeped. She looked down at her arm, only to be met with stinging disappointment. Her arm looked just the same, the angry white welts cutting across her skin. But for a second...she had started to hope.

The Doctor moved over her arm, looking at it in disbelief. "I don't understand!"

"I told you, it was made by magic, nothing can make it go away," she said sadly.

"It doesn't matter," he said softly. "You're still amazing without it."

"Thank you," she said sincerely. "I would like to go home now, please."

"Already?" he asked, hurt. "You just got here!"

"It's been a long day," she said. "And I just want to get back to my own bed."

"At least stay for tea," he insisted.

"No, really, I should be going," Hermione said.

The Doctor sighed. "Okay. Let's go." He offered his arm to her and she held onto it gladly to be led away.

However, when they got to the door, it was locked.

"It's never locked from the inside," he told her. He pulled on it fruitlessly, and then, the engines started.

"What's that?" she asked.

The Doctor gulped. "The engines."

"You mean we're flying?" she asked. "What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything!" he exclaimed. "This ship has a mind of her own."

"Well, tell her to let me out!" she yelled.

"She won't do, obviously," the Doctor rolled his eyes.

Hermione huffed, disentangling her arm from him and flopping down on the jump seat. "As soon as we land, you're taking me home."


End file.
